by Aly Martinez
“What exactly is cool?” I narrowed my eyes, but my cheeks began to heat.
I was closer to Till Page than I was to anyone else in the world, but he was still a guy, and I was a seventeen-year-old girl who was still a virgin. This conversation was awkward.
“Ya know . . . You and Bennett. It’s none of my business.” Thankfully, he seemed just as uncomfortable. “I mean, you guys were together for, like, a year. Everyone kinda figured you were, anyway.”
“They figured we were what?” My embarrassment slipped as my blood began to boil. Unfortunately for me, I cried when I was angry and Till’s next words ripped open the floodgates.
“I mean, he . . . uh, told everyone that you guys were doing it.” He paused as my eyes grew wide. “Like, on the regular.”
“What!” I gasped even though I wasn’t really shocked. That was what teenage boys did, right? They lied about sex. The only problem was that this lie was about me. Tears dripped down my face as I managed to croak out, “We never . . .”
“Fuck,” Till cussed, immediately stepping forward, dragging me into his chest. I could feel his heart pounding and his muscles tense as I unnecessarily ran my hands up his sides. “I’ll fix it,” he soothed.
“You planning to turn back time? Because I’m pretty sure there is no fixing this.”
Right then and there, I vowed to castrate Daniel Bennett. I’d originally intended for it to be a thought, but when I felt Till’s chest begin shaking, I realized I had issued my threat out loud.
“You’ll lie to the cops for me when I follow through with that, right? I’ll need an alibi.” I lifted my head to catch his gaze.
He barked out a laugh. “No, I don’t want to be the alibi. I’ll be happy to hold him down for you though.” He smiled, rubbing his hand up and down my back.
Till and I weren’t exactly touchy-feely, but we didn’t shy away from affection, either. When my mother had shredded the sketchbook she’d found in my backpack during our freshman year, Till had held me for hours as I’d cried. It was the first time I’d realized how much I had come to not only rely on him, but trust him as well. He knew my life and didn’t judge me because of it. We were two of a kind. We might not have been the only poor kids with screwed-up parents, but sometimes, it really felt that way.
“Oh, God. I’m going to look like such an idiot at school on Monday. Not only was I supposedly having monkey sex with Daniel, but it wasn’t even good enough to keep him from sleeping with my best friend,” I whined, stomping my foot for good measure.
“Monkey sex?” Till asked with humor filling his voice.
“Shut up. You know what I mean.”
He hadn’t yet released me, so I buried my head back into his chest. If he was offering, I was taking.
“You want me to kick his ass?” He made it sound like a joke, but I knew he was very serious.
“No,” I mumbled. My answer had far less to do with worrying about Daniel’s safety and everything to do with not wanting Till to get in trouble for doing it.
“Want me to spread some shit about Crystal?” He dropped his arms around my waist and rested his chin on the top of my head.
“No. What I want you to do is find a way to bottle chlamydia so we can give it to both of them.”
“Right. I’ll begin researching that tomorrow. I know a few girls who could probably supply us with a sample.”
“Ew. That’s disgusting. Please tell me Helen isn’t one of them?” I took a step out of his arms, and his eyes danced with humor.
“Oh, I wouldn’t know about Helen.”
“Liar,” I accused, and his smile grew.
“Hey, you know what I bet would make you feel better?”
“Switching high schools?” I snarked over my shoulder as I walked back to the cushions on the floor.
“Nope. Scratching my head.”
“Why does your head itch? You got lice?”
“What? No!” he yelled defensively. “That’s like some little kid shit, isn’t it?”
“Mostly, but anyone can get it. Besides, how old are Flint and Quarry now anyway? They could have brought it home from school.”
“Six and eleven, but we don’t share a room or anything anymore.” He was blinking a lot and I could tell he was starting to worry.
“Till, just ’cause you sleep on the couch doesn’t mean they couldn’t have left it there for you. Come on. Sit down and I’ll check. Crystal had lice when we were in fifth grade. She was miserable.” I paused as an idea hit me. “Hey! If you really have lice, can you give it to Daniel and Crystal before getting rid of it?”
“Sure. I’d be happy to! How do I give it to them?” he asked, so genuinely interested that I couldn’t help but smile.
“Just rub your head on them or something. Maybe lend Bennett one of your beanies,” I joked, but Till stood there for a minute studying me.
“Sorry,” was all he said before diving at me.
He caught me completely off guard, and I toppled over backwards. Before I even had a chance to react, he had my arms pinned and was straddling my hips.
“What the hell!” I yelled as he began rubbing the top of his head against mine. He was thorough too, twisting his head from side to side to touch every inch of mine.
“There,” he said before finally moving off me. “Since this whole lice thing was your idea, I figured we should really experience it together.” A slow grin slid across his mouth. Obviously, he was proud of his thought process.
“Have you lost your freaking mind? Why would you try to give me lice? It wasn’t my idea! You have an itchy head, so I simply asked if you had lice. That’s it!”
“Well, shit, Doodle. I didn’t realize you would be this ungrateful. I was just trying to be a good friend so we could lean on each other for support during a difficult time.” He winked.
Like, actually winked. I probably had bugs crawling in my hair, and Till was winking.
That one moment probably summed up our relationship better than anything else. Till always made things hard for me, but in some strange way, he always made them infinitely better as well.
Case in point.
Harder: For twenty minutes, Till lay with his head in my lap as I nervously inspected his hair to see if we had lice. We didn’t.
Better: For two hours after that, he lay with his head in my lap laughing and holding my sketchpad against his chest as I drew Crystal and Daniel voodoo dolls. I scratched his head with one hand, and he pointed out additional flaws I should add to our Juliet and her Romeo.
Occasionally, Till would go one step further and pull out a best: Just as I looked down to ask a question, I met his hazel eyes staring up at me. He didn’t look away or become awkward after being caught. Instead, a warm smile lifted the corner of his mouth. His eyes weren’t burning with desire the way I’m sure mine were, instead they were deep and content.
Yeah.
The absolute best.
When the intensity of our stare became too much, I cleared my throat and asked, “What time are social services coming tomorrow? You should probably go home.”
“Eleven.” He glanced at his watch. “You want to stay here with me tonight? I don’t feel like going back there. I need to get up early and clean that hell hole before they get there, though. She threatened to take Flint and Quarry last time if things weren’t better.”
“Crap.” I breathed.
“It’ll be okay. Flint’s done a lot the past week. Mom’s leaving to have Tammy do her nails in the morning, so I’m gonna try to make it at least look decent while she’s gone. She might not give a damn, but I do. I just can’t deal with her shit tonight.” He tried so hard to play it off as no big deal, but as he lifted his hand to toy with his bottom lip, I knew he was bothered.
“Okay. I’ll stay.” I said simply before settling next to him. My parents weren’t going to worry if I didn’t come home, but I’d worry about Till waking up in time if I left. “You know if you ever need . . .” He interrupted me before
I could offer any assistance.
“Night, Doodle.” He rolled away, halting all further conversation.
Eventually, I fell asleep. We weren’t cuddled up next to each other the way I would have preferred the first time we ever slept together, but after a terrible night, I still fell asleep with cheeks that were sore from smiling.
Even at seventeen I knew I loved Till Page, but I didn’t have grand dreams of how perfect our lives would be together. Maybe it was because I didn’t want to set myself up for disappointment. But I think it was more because I didn’t want to face the fact that there was a future at all—one that may or may not have included him. I just wanted to live with Till in the present where there was no pressure to pretend to be anyone else. A present where I kept his stomach full of canned foods, and he kept me warm and needed. I scratched his head, and he healed my heart.
One day they were going to knock down that building and snatch that life away from us. But with a half boy half man snoring loudly beside me, I was blissfully blinded by the present.
Chapter Five
Till
THE DAY I FOUND ON The Ropes boxing gym, my life changed forever. I had been going to high school, working two jobs, and spending almost all of my paychecks to keep a roof over my brothers’ heads. I’d walked past that old vacant building every day on my way to and from my job at the grocery store. Then, one day, there were about twenty trucks outside and workmen covering the sidewalk. I didn’t give it much thought as I passed, but I swear, by the time I went home that night, there was a brand-new gym complete with decaled windows.
The next day at school, they passed out fliers advertising a new after-school program at On The Ropes. It contained my favorite word in the English language: free. Rumors were flying around that the former professional heavyweight champion Slate “The Silent Storm” Andrews owned the gym and would be personally running the program. Half the school had plans to enroll just to meet him.
In those days, I liked to keep myself as busy as possible. But when football season was over, I was left with entirely too much time between school and when Eliza would show up at the apartment. I sure as shit didn’t want to spend that time at the piss pot my parents called home—the same one I was working two jobs to pay for since they couldn’t get their shit together.
A free boxing program sounded like the perfect fit.
I decided to skip chemistry to scope it out and, hopefully, secure my spot before the after-school rush hit.
“Well, that was fast,” Slate fucking Andrews said from the front desk as I entered the gym.
The place was amazing. Everything was new and crisp white, red, and black. Two rings stood in the middle of the huge, open room, weights and various types of punching bags filling the rest. Mirrors covered the length of the room on one side, and jump ropes were hanging from hooks in every corner. But my eyes were instantly drawn to the giant words painted in script above the mirrors:
Home of
___________________
On the Ropes’
First World Champion
“Your name going in that blank?” he asked when he followed my gaze.
“Uh . . .”
“Okay, maybe we should start with: what’s your name?” He pulled a clipboard from behind the tall, wooden counter.
“Um . . .” I continued to stutter, starstruck.
He chuckled and extended a hand. “Slate Andrews.”
I wiped my palm on my jeans before lifting it to his. “Sorry. Till Page.”
“Well, nice to meet you, Till.” He pushed the clipboard in front of me. “Our gym rates are as stated, depending on the membership plan you choose. We have yearly, monthly—”
“Oh, um, sorry. I thought it was free.” I looked up, embarrassed.
“Free?” His eyebrow quirked as he crossed his arms over his chest.
“Yeah. I mean the after-school program. Sorry. I must have been confused. I can’t afford to join a gym.” I stepped away, ready to bolt.
“You’re a student?”
“Yeah,” I answered.
His eyes narrowed. “It’s yes, sir.” Then he motioned for me to repeat it.
“Yes, sir.”
He nodded approvingly. “Christ you’re big for a kid. How old are you?”
“Seventeen.”
“Play football?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Senior?”
“Junior,” I corrected.
He gave me a quick head-to-foot scan and shook his head. “All right, then. Let me switch that out for you.” After pulling out a thick, manila envelope from the drawer, he slid it in my direction. “Why aren’t you in school right now, Till Page?”
“I don’t have class last hour,” I lied.
“So, can I expect you here at two every day, then? Ya know, since you don’t have class last hour?” He gave me a knowing smirk that read: busted.
“Well—,” I started but he cut me off.
“You miss school, you don’t come here. Got it?”
“Yeah,” I answered quickly, but he glared at me. “I mean, yes, sir.”
“Better. Look, this program is for kids with integrity. Lying to me will land your ass on the street. So let’s try this again. Why aren’t you in school right now, Till Page?”
I uncomfortably looked down at my shoes. “I, uh, wanted to enroll in the program. I was worried it would fill up before I got a spot, so I skipped class.”
“Okay. You owe me three miles.” He walked to a filing cabinet before returning with a neon-yellow piece of paper.
“Three miles of what?”
“Cardio! We have our own punitive system here at On The Ropes. Skipping class is three miles. Just be glad it was only one. Skipping a whole day earns you hand-washing jockstraps.” He laughed as I curled my lip in disgust. “It’s all outlined right there. As well as the membership fees.”
I tilted my head in confusion, “I thought the after-school program was free. I just told you I can’t afford gym fees!” My attitude slipped.
His whole friendly demeanor disappeared. He was glowering at me, and even as tough as I pretended to be, it still scared the fuck out of me.
I amended the end of my outburst. “Sorry.”
“You don’t have to pay me with cash, so technically, it is free. Don’t worry. I had a lawyer look over that flier before passing it out. No false advertising here.” He winked. “Manual labor is my currency of choice. The back of that”—he nodded down at the paper—“outlines the fees for your time spent here. Everything from sweeping the floors to cleaning the toilets, right down to folding towels, is on there. It also outlines the price of meals in manual labor as well. You need something to eat? I’ll feed you. But it’s not a handout. You’ll work for that too.”
“Meals?” I asked, more than just a little interested.
“Yep. You’ll probably think they are nasty as hell. Real healthy stuff. Good for your body. I’m training fighters, not slouches.”
“Oh, okay,” I responded while scanning the “price chart.”
Slate had figured out the “cost” for everything from just hanging out at the gym after school to private one-on-one boxing lessons with him. You could “buy” workout clothes or your own gloves with extra jobs as well.
Jesus. He was running a sweatshop, but that was all right with me.
“Max ten hours a week. You do those ten hours then everything opens up to you free of charge: meals, training, summer program, one set of workout clothes a month. And that even comes with my promise to keep my mouth shut when I find you crying about your sore muscles in the locker room.” He smiled.
I rolled my eyes.
“I’m not going to bullshit you. I expect hard work in and out of that ring. You go to school and then come here. That’s it.”
“I work two jobs,” I informed him.
“Fine. You go to school, work, then On The Ropes. Nothing else.”
That sounded perfect. Well, nothing else except
Eliza. Not even professional training with Slate Andrews would stop me from making time to spend with her.
After a few seconds, he cleared his throat. “So, you still interested in joining?”
“Yeah. Absolutely.”
“Well, okay, then. Take that packet home and get your parents to sign all the Xs and I’ll see you tomorrow after school. Now, go ahead and hit the track out back.”
“The track?” I questioned.
“You owe me three miles, remember?”
“I’m wearing jeans,” I responded, incredulous.
“Well, maybe you should have thought of that before skipping class.” He walked away without another backward glance.
Chapter Six
Eliza
One year later . . .
A STRICTLY FORBIDDEN BULLHORN BLASTED through the silent auditorium as my name was called to receive my high school diploma. While I never actually saw him, I had not one doubt that it was Till. I burst out laughing as my stomach twisted. It bothered me more than I’d expected that he wasn’t walking across that stage with me.
Till’s life had been busy. He’d been spending a lot of time at a nearby boxing gym as well as working two jobs: cleaning up after construction crews and stocking shelves at the grocery store. Even with all of that, he still never missed a single night at our apartment. He did, however, miss ninety percent of his math and physics homework, thus having failed both, which left him unable to graduate. He’d acted like it didn’t bother him when he’d been told that he didn’t have enough credits to walk across the stage with the rest of our class, but I could see the disappointment in his eyes. He’d laughed it off, saying that it wasn’t like he had any huge plans to go off to a big-name college or anything.
I, however, had been accepted to the local university on a scholarship. I’d decided to take out every possible student loan I could get and move out of my parents’ apartment. Till had laughed when I’d proposed a betting pool to see how long it would take them to notice that I was gone. I bet a decade. He chose a week.
I waited outside the auditorium after graduation was over, looking for Till, but deep inside I knew there was only one place I’d find him.